Splatoon: Message In a Jar
by Computer-Crumb
Summary: Giving the benefit of the doubt ended up throwing Markus for the ride of his life, quite literally. He finds himself trapped among fear-driven Octarians until meeting a secret that's been living in the underground for 14 years.
1. Chapter 1 - Unwitting

**Chapter 1 - Unwitting**

 _"You're really somethin' with that Octobrush of yours! I wish I coulda seen it! What happened next?"_

"Well, after I took out that Charger, someone started Bomb Rushing the area. Splat Bombs were coming down from the platform above me. They were everywhere around me, and about to go off," He told the girl on the other end of the phone. "It was an opponent with a Sloshing Machine. I swam up there before the bombs exploded, and I splatted them! People seem to always forget they can still use their main weapon during a Bomb Rush."

 _"I get that. I always feel like I'm wasting my Special if I quit halfway through! You know how that is, Markus?"_ Before Markus could reply, she spoke again. _"Oh! The oven timer's going off. I gotta take care of the cookies. Hey, you and Milton are still coming by later, right?"_

Markus nodded even though he knew she couldn't see it.  
"Totally! Are the cookies free or do I need to pay in more Turf Wars stories?"

 _"Ha ha ha! Whatever you'd like! Okay I'll see you guys then! Get here by six to guarantee yourself a cookie! I'll have a new batch by then. Bye!"_

"Bye, Marinka!" Markus grinned to himself as he ended the call with a press on the glass screen. The dimming orange sunlight reflected off his equally bright orange hair, and hit warmly on his back as he followed the sidewalk.

He watched the display for a moment as he still walked onwards along the quiet sidewalk. A small basketball court was situated on the street corner. Tall apartments lined either side of the road. Some of the balconies high above were hung with drying linens, or window unit A/C's lazily droning.  
Markus was heading home to his own apartment after a full day of Turf War battles. His empty ink tank and weapons lay dry inside the backpack slung across his shoulder.

"Hey!"

Markus, still looking down at his phone, didn't register the shout.

"Hey, hey Markus!"

With the mention of his name, he halted in place and glanced about. His eyes caught on the Inkling standing across the street and waving. The other boy wore his green tentacle hair in a ponytail like Markus, but two protruding bangs over his forehead differentiated him from the average style. The tentacles bobbed with the Inkling's movement.

"Nathan?" Markus said, just barely loud enough for the other Inkling to hear.

"Yeah, c'mon Markus!" Nathan made a faster beckoning motion. In one hand he gripped a hoop too small to be a hula-hoop.

Markus knew Nathan from brief experiences – almost none of them good ones. The kid was a sore loser and had a temper. In fact, it was merely an hour ago that Markus had last seen Nathan pounding the ground in anger after his team lost a Turf War match. And today it had been Markus who had inflicted that loss.  
Two other Inklings stood near Nathan on the basketball court, one was another male and the other a female. Markus recognized them as Nathan's teammates, but he didn't know their names himself.  
By now Nathan had turned back around, walking over to several objects on the concrete. Markus couldn't quite make out what the objects on the ground were. Curiosity winning him over, Markus pocketed his phone in his hoodie's front pouch and hurried across the empty street.

"You might have some skills in Turf Wars, but I'm better than you at _this_ ," Nathan whisked the hoop he was holding around in emphasis, then handed it off to the female Inkling. "Just watch, just watch," He urged Markus, holding a hand up as if he were calling for his audience to settle.

Nathan melded and shifted down into his squid form and easily leapt through the hoop his teammate held. Markus blinked blankly. The leap seemed like something practically any Inkling could do. Nathan then turned on his spot and raised a tentacle, signaling his teammate. She bent to pick up a second hoop, and held both high above her head. This time, when Nathan jumped up, he twisted in the air and swooped through both hoops. He landed neatly on the other side, and shifted back into his humanoid form.  
"Impressed yet? I'm only getting started. Unless… you could do better? Huh, Markus?" Nathan grinned widely, his hands fisted in enthusiasm.

The female teammate kneeled again to hold a third hoop, this one smaller than the previous two.  
"Unless you're scared! C'mon Markus! Show me what you've got. For fun!" Nathan added, fidgeting and quickly hopping from one foot to the other.

Markus shrugged off his backpack and let it rest against the worn chain-link fence.  
"Sure. Why not?" He offered a calm smile at Nathan, and Nathan nodded excitedly. Markus thought this could have been his opportunity to smooth out things between them, or at the very least, learn more about this fervent Inkling who frequented the Turf Wars arena.

The two started with jumping through hoops. Every round the hoops rose higher, but it was still child's play to the Inklings. With each round, Nathan's teammates gave small applause. After Nathan had begun to grow bored of the hoops, he fetched the jars he had in his pack.  
"That was easy stuff. But now," Nathan spoke as he set down the jars and unscrewed them. "I have something better! Check this out." Again, Nathan held both hands out to call for attention. Once back in squid form, he scaled the side of the biggest jar and climbed into it.  
"Look! Think you could fit in a jar smaller than this? I bet you can't!" Nathan teased from inside the container.

"Yeah! Nathan's the best!" The female Inkling added in a shout.

"I could probably fit in the smallest one," Markus proclaimed, taking out the phone in his pocket to free up space. He tossed it into his backpack before changing into a squid and easing into the smallest jar in the line of them.

Nathan had climbed out of his jar to see the feat.  
"Markus, you're so…" He paused as he picked up the jar with Markus inside. "…gullible!" Nathan slapped the lid on and screwed it shut in a haste.

"W-what?! What are you…?!" Markus's voice faded once he realized the jar silenced him from the outside.

Nathan laughed and laughed, staring into the jar and turning it over in his hands. One of his teammates gave him a high-five. Markus pushed against the confines of the jar, but it proved futile with his limited movement. There was no room to maneuver at all.  
"You deserve it, Mucus! You suck! Your stupid team shouldn't be allowed to play Turf Wars!" Nathan yelled down at the jar and gave it a shake.  
Markus could _just_ make out the muffled voice beyond the thick glass. He was in disbelief. The hoop games were all a ruse to trick him into the jar, where he was at Nathan's utter mercy.

Nathan began down the street with his teammates, the three of them hollering and tossing the jar with Markus inside to each other. They rolled the jar down the sidewalk. Tested their skills in making it spin like a top. Tried to see who could throw it the highest without letting it hit the floor and breaking it. Nathan hadn't ever held so much control over someone else before and he was elated to have the power.  
Cars rumbled past endlessly in the bustling outskirts of Inkopolis's downtown. City goers sparsely populated the sidewalks during this time of day. None paid attention to the rowdy Inklings with the jar.  
Nathan couldn't help but stop to watch the river when they began to cross the bridge. A terrible idea had sprang to mind. His dark brown eyes followed the rushing currents. Nathan faced his comrades.  
"Let's drop him off the bridge."

By now Markus was no longer spending his energy attempting to listen in on the group's conversation. He'd been spun and thrown so much he wasn't sure if he was upside-down or not. His orientation came back to him after the jar had become unusually still. From what Markus could tell, the three Inklings on the outside were discussing something.

"He'll wash up in a day," Markus caught a part of Nathan's words, which struck a rush of panic in him upon noticing the river below. "The jar will keep him safe 'til then," Nathan held the jar up to his face to sneer at Markus up-close. "Now we're the ones that won, Mucus! See you in a day!"

The two other Inklings by Nathan's side clapped and howled after Nathan had announced his decision.  
Nathan stuck his hand out over the dully painted railing, his fingers slowly releasing hold on the jar. Markus, shocked at the situation, pleaded desperately before forcing himself with all his strength against the lid in a last-ditch effort. The glass rolled out of Nathan's palm, and the jar plummeted. Markus braced for impact and prayed that the glass wouldn't crack or shatter once it hit the water. He was dead if water was to surge into the jar.  
The splash was raucous and hard, but the jar went undamaged. It rolled and tumbled roughly as it descended the choppy waters. The evening sunlight dimmed the further down Markus sunk. The bottom of the river was murky enough to block out the sun nearly completely.  
Rapid currents pushed the jar fast along the ground, and Markus didn't think he could handle the whirling turbulence for long. Surrounded by darkness and hopelessly trapped within the glass confines; It was a nightmare.

It remained pitch dark for ages. Tumbling. Rolling ceaselessly in an eerie quiet.

* * *

The dark blue-haired Inkling lay sprawled across the couch with a plate of cookie crumbs on the armrest. He thumbed his phone's screen over and over.

"Any word from Markus?" Marinka asked, hands clasped while she paced around the coffee table.

"No. Something probably got his attention and he forgot about the time. He's always late for things," Milton mumbled back. His blue eyes still scanned the rectangular screen in his hands.

"Yeah, but he usually answers my texts right away. And I warned him about missing out on cookies. I thought he'd be early for once," Marinka said a little sadly and absentmindedly felt her pocket for her phone. It hadn't vibrated yet, but she pulled the cellular out to check it again anyway.

"Maybe his phone died. I can't tell you how many times he's broken his phone charger," Milton lowered his phone to face Marinka. "Don't look so depressed. He's fine."


	2. Chapter 2 - Unusual Underground Citizen

**Chapter 2 - Unusual Underground Citizen**

The jar wormed through a metal tunnel, a departure from the fast-flowing river. The jar bumped the hard walls and still rolled with the force of the water. Not even the rackety clanging awoke Markus. A faint light soon came into view through the rushing water. It grew stronger and brighter until finally the jar reached the open air again.  
A waterfall poured from the metal tunnel's mouth. The jar propelled downwards, falling until it hit the jagged concrete surrounding the waterfall and its resulting pool of water. The jar exploded upon the ground, leaving a spray of tiny glass in every direction.  
Markus, rudely awaken and finally free, gladly took his humanoid shape again and stretched. He winced with a sharp pain in his middle and a hand instinctively covered the wound. The fall had incited a gash across his torso, among other less prevalent injuries. Markus tried to sit up, but his head lolled back weakly. Woozy and wounded, Markus focused on regulating his breathing. Until he suddenly noticed the stomping of heavy footsteps marching closer.  
A black boot ground the glass shards into the ground audibly. Markus squinted up at the figure that had arrived overhead. The person watched back at Markus for a moment before turning and calling to someone over their shoulder. By the time the second one arrived, Markus realized what they were.  
"Octolings?" His thoughts became a hoarse word.  
The two stranger Octolings spoke amongst themselves as they loomed over Markus. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he tried to listen.  
"…Is the translator working? Tsk. I hate Inkling language," Suddenly their low mutterings became clear to Markus. "You - Intruder!" The Octoling speaking pointed her weapon towards Markus.

Markus stared at the end of the Octoshot's barrel. Otherwise frozen, his green eyes traced back up to the Octoling's face. Her eyes were shielded from view behind thick, silver goggles.

"It's hurt. I don't think this one even has weapons," The second Octoling spoke to the other. "We should ask the elite about this."

"We're supposed to get rid of intruders. Especially Inklings." She tightened her grip on the weapon and maintained her aim. Markus held his breath. "The orders are explicit. You're not trying to defend it, are you?" She accused, looking away from Markus to bare her teeth at the colleague Octoling.

"No! But I don't want to get in trouble if we're supposed to report this first!"

The Octolings began to argue, and the one with the Octoshot lowered her weapon in distraction. Markus pushed himself into a sitting position as he gathered his bearings.  
 _"What was it Mom always told me for times like this?"_ He silently thought to himself.

 _"Don't talk to strangers!"_ His mother's voice sang in his head. _"No, not that…"_ He dismissed.  
 _"Remember to take out the garbage!"_ Her reminder returned in his mind. _"No! Wrong again!"_ He frowned a bit more. With the back of his hand Markus wiped off the mist the waterfall behind him was glazing him with.  
 _"Forget it. They're too busy with each other right now,"_ He said mentally as he began scooting backward from the Octolings. His hand slipped off the edge of the concrete and splashed the pool of water. He recoiled in an instant, shaking off his hand nervously. Markus stared up at where the waterfall began and tried piecing things together. Another glance at the Octolings told him that they still hadn't noticed him leaving. Markus carefully got to his feet. On his right was a trail between rows of trees, and he surmised it to be his best path of escape for now.  
The Octolings had their backs to him, and one was gesticulating to the other in obvious anger. Markus wondered if they might start fighting each other soon. He made a run to the shaded path of trees. Markus didn't let his feet stop down the long hall. Only the sound of his rubber soles ricocheted down the silent concrete path and its walls of neatly-lined trees. Their rows were too perfect to have been natural.  
Markus slowed after a while to catch his breath. He looked about himself for any signs that someone was following him, but his only reply was an eerie quiet. His hand rested against the trunk of one of the trees, and he peered down the aisles of trees surrounding him.  
"Weird," He muttered to himself if only to fill the silence. "I've never seen a forest like this before."

Soft light filtered through the thin canopy. Markus impulsively reached for his phone in his hoodie pocket, but it wasn't there. Markus sighed heavily when he remembered it was still in his backpack sitting at the basketball court. From what his head told him, it should have been night by now. Yet, the sun apparently peeked above him. He squinted upwards.  
"Fake sunlight or something… That's what the Octarians use, I think. This has to be the underground," He said to himself as his finger traced the tear on his favorite hoodie. He frowned.

In the quiet again, a far-off rumble caught his ear. Markus kneeled behind a tree trunk and flinched from the wound again. He stared through the gaps of the trees and spotted the cause of the noise. An Octarian drove by on the other side of the trees. It stood atop a mobile metal contraption and guided it using its single tentacle wrapped around a knob. The Octarian grumbled and crumpled its face as if deeply annoyed. Markus supposed it was headed in the direction of the Octolings he'd encountered earlier.  
Once the Octarian had distanced, he stood back up, but had forgotten about the cut and again grimaced. He took hold of the metal zipper on his front and gingerly glided it down, allowing him to shrug off the hoodie. He studied the gash for a moment, then pulled the hoodie around his waist and tied the arms over the wound. Checking about for signs of any Octarians, Markus then continued walking.  
The air hung stale and musty with a hint of earth. The scattered rays of light showcased the dust particles hanging suspended. Further down the path ahead, Markus could see an expanse, but it was too bright to make out what lie beyond the trees. He jogged closer, only to realize it was the end of the land. The road cut off abruptly to an incredible fall. Markus inched near to get a look over the edge, watching down at the stalagmites and then turning his gaze upward. An image of the sky played all around the underground dome's walls on displays, mimicking the land above and its real blue atmosphere. A few of the monitors were out of sync with the rest of the image, breaking the illusion.  
Having reached the end of the path, Markus began to look about for an alternative. He then started in the direction of the concrete on the other side of the tree path, where the Octarian had driven by. Although, he was disappointed he wouldn't have the cover of the foliage. Something grabbed his wrist, and he jerked involuntarily in startle.

He met the bright magenta eyes of another person and hastily stepped backward, only to collide with a tree.  
"You're unarmed? No weapons?" The stranger questioned aloud.

Markus, gathering his senses, faced the other Inkling.  
"Yeah," He croaked, wide-eyed and astonished to find another of his kind in forbidden territory.

The female Inkling smiled sheepishly down at Markus.  
"Did I scare you? Sorry," She paused for a beat to wipe at her freckled cheek. " I was following you. I saw you fall from the waterfall. You're from the surface? Oh, sorry. You _must_ be from the surface. Duh."

Markus straightened as he took in her rushed speech. The girl's tentacles were a yellow-green, styled in a striking resemblance to an Octoling's. Her black shorts, tank top, and boots suit her, but Markus found the uncanny similarity to Octoling fashion somewhat jarring.

"What's your name?" She said while leaning closer to inspect Markus.

"I'm Markus," He replied with a nod. "You?"

"My name's Ling," Ling announced with a wide grin. "Markus, your name is cool! So, you're a boy Inkling?" Markus didn't have a chance to fully understand her question before she answered it herself. "Wait, I know. You are. Gotta be. You know, I don't see Inklings very often. Actually, I never see Inklings. Except in, uh, magazines and stuff from the surface that end up down here."

Blinking at the absurd thought, Markus spoke up.  
"Are you stuck down here? And what do you mean, you don't see Inklings?"

"I'm… I'm stuck. Yep. Stuck down here," Ling was still uncomfortably near Markus's face when she responded. "I grew up here; in the underground. With Octarians. My parents live here. They're also Octarians. They found me here when I was a baby, so, they adopted me. No Inklings live here except me. Most Inklings live above ground. But I can't go to the surface by myself. I mean, I know how to get to the surface, but I just don't do it." She spun around and leapt into a tree as if she was born with the ability.

"You know how to get to the surface?" Markus had many, many more questions, but considering his current predicament he decided to ask the most important one.

"Yeah. It's kind of a long way. Oh! You want to go back to the surface?" Ling swung her legs over the branch she was sitting on.

"Yes! I really need to get back. Would you be able to show me the way, please?"

"I can do that!" She flipped herself over the branch with practiced skill and landed beside Markus. He wondered to himself if she was attempting to impress him. "It would be fun! But you have to be sneaky. Really quiet. The Octolings won't like you." Her voice suddenly went to a whisper at the mention of Octolings.

Her hands, gritty with soil and tree bark, grasped at Markus's ears suddenly. Though surprised, he remained still. Ling stared at him as if he were the most curious puzzle she'd ever seen.  
"You have short ears," She stated bluntly. Her eyes dropped to his feet and she smiled again. "Your shoes are so cool! I wish I had shoes like that."

Markus was confused over her amazement momentarily. But recalling her story of having been raised by Octarians, her demeanor suddenly made more sense. Next time he looked up at her, the cheer in her face had vanished yet again.  
"Oh, and you're hurt, aren't you? Okay. Come to my house and we'll make you better. My parents are really great." Ling began in a direction before finishing her sentence.

"Wait! Didn't you say your parents are Octarians?" Markus called out to her before she got too far.

"Yeah, I did," She slowed her pace. "But they won't turn you in or anything. They're nice. I'll tell them you're nice, too."

Ling kept going, weaving through the trees eastward. Markus saw no choice but to hurry after her before she disappeared from sight. As he jogged toward her, Ling went visible for tiny intervals as a quick blur of movement between the trunks. Her deceivingly light footsteps made no noise for him to follow either. Just when he feared he had lost her for good, he discovered her standing in a small clearing. One of her boots was resting atop a large, metal, kettle-shaped object protruding from the grass. The run wasn't a strenuous one, but the ache on Markus's abdomen robbed him of his breath. Ling tilted her head like an intrigued puppy.  
"Hey, don't push yourself. You'll just make yourself worse," She closed the gap between them when she reached for Markus's hand. "Let's go."

Markus found Ling's concern somewhat contradictory with her haste, but he didn't mention it and took her hand.  
"Where to now?"

"My house, like I said," She said as if it were obvious. "I just don't want to lose you when we jump into the kettle. Oh, you do have kettles on the surface, don't you? You should probably go into squid form. It'd be easier that way."

Ling shifted into her smaller squid self. She still held onto Markus when she leapt into the grating atop the kettle. Markus had just enough time to change into a squid before hitting the grate. In this form, Ling and Markus slipped through the grating as if it weren't there.  
The oversized kettle accepted the Inklings with a clang and a whistling hiss. Markus felt the pull of gravity suddenly evaporate, and he clung tighter to Ling as they sped downward and into the darkness. Both Inklings were rushed through interlinking pipes and promptly ejected out of the connecting kettle in the neighboring underground dome. Ling changed back into her humanoid form before Markus had fully understood what had happened. She cradled him in her arms with a laugh.  
"Was that scary? Sorry." Her shoulders still bobbed with her laughter.

Markus turned in her arms to take in the new surroundings. Rows of dinky homes stood on either side of the road he and Ling were in. Ling began to walk. Markus's eyes followed the passing scenery carefully. The light was much dimmer in this area, making him squint to make out the details around them.  
Most of the house-shaped constructs were shanty – built from scraps of metal boards and pipe segments. When a cold breeze passed, parts of their walls quivered like paper.  
When Markus's gaze landed on an Octarian several meters away, the Octarian stared back at him with horror before clumsily dashing into its home and slamming the door. Ling had apparently taken notice.  
"It's okay, Markus. They don't know you're not mean, but they won't hurt you if you stay with me," She told him in an uncharacteristically low tone.

Ling soon climbed the steps to one of the neater and more stable-looking houses. Sparse flowers were blooming around the doorstep. Markus realized he had no need to have stayed in Ling's arms for so long. He scoot out of her hold and jumped to the ground to transform back into his bipedal self.  
"This is my home!" She then told Markus, and she swung the metal door open. "Hey!" She cupped her hands around her mouth as she excitedly dart inside. "I have a new friend! Come meet him!"

Markus entered, and the wooden floorboards creaked with their weight. A commotion from upstairs caught his ear.  
"Ling?! You've made a friend?!" Called out an unfamiliar voice.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Is it that Octobomber from down the street?" Another chimed in.

Two Octarians, each comprised of a single tentacle and two awkwardly stringy legs, made down the staircase. Ling beamed up at them with an arm on Markus's shoulder. However, the moment the Octarians saw Markus, they shrieked in terror.  
"Oh my God! It's an Inkling!" One cried out, trying to maneuver backwards but instead tripping on the stairs.

"It's going to kill us! Get away from it, Ling!" The second commanded as they scurried back up the staircase in fear.

"No, no! Mom, Dad! He's not a mean Inkling!" Ling shouted above the ruckus as she approached the end of the stairs.

Both Octarians stopped at the top of the staircase, eyeballing Markus warily. Ling slowly made up the steps. One of her parents leaned towards her to speak in a whisper.  
"Ling, all Inklings are bad. Except you, of course, darling. They were raised as savages. We've spoken about this. Report that Inkling to the Octolings."

"No! Markus isn't going to do anything to harm us. Right, Markus?" Ling craned her neck over her shoulder. Markus nodded fervently. "He doesn't have any weapons," She said while facing her parents again. "He just wants to go back to the surface, and he's hurt."

"How well do you know that Inkling? It could be manipulating you." The Octarian still close to Ling hushed into her ear. The second Octarian had resumed a cautious course down the steps once more, never breaking eye contact with Markus.

"Stop calling Markus an _it!_ He's…" Ling faltered. She had known Markus for a mere 15 minutes or so. It wasn't enough to argue that he was who he said he was, but Ling wanted nothing more than to trust him. He was the only Inkling she had been able to speak with in her life. "Just give him a chance, okay? Please?" She hugged her Octarian parent heaving a heavy sigh.

"Alright, alright," The Octarian muttered in surrender. "Have… _Markus_ … seated at the kitchen table and we'll have a look."

Ling bobbed her head and practically ran back to Markus. She took him by the wrist and wordlessly led him to the dining area, her steps almost too fast for Markus to keep up with. One of her parents slowly made their way to the two Inklings. The Octarian set down a medical kit on the tabletop.  
Markus undid the tied sleeves of his hoodie which had been protecting the gash, and let the hoodie slump into one of the chairs at the table.  
"Tell us how you ended up in the underground." Ling requested with enthusiasm in her bouncy voice.

Markus opened his mouth to speak, but shut it, unsure of the story exactly. He began after another moment.  
"It started after I was trapped inside a jar," Markus found it difficult to keep the displeasure off his face. "I wound up in a river, and next thing I knew I was down here. I'm not really sure what happened."

"The river must be connected to the waterfall. That's where I saw you fall from," Ling grasped Markus's hand again as if she'd known him dearly. "You're so lucky you landed on the ground."

The Octarian tending to Markus pulled his black undershirt up by the hem to disinfect the wound with a towelette. He winced at the touch, and he noticed Ling's parent hesitate when he did.  
"I really am. It would have been really bad if I was stuck at the bottom of a lake." Markus said to Ling in agreement.

The Octarian passed Ling a roll of gauze and a pad. She gingerly placed the cotton pad on the gash and wrapped the gauze around his torso.  
"You should be able to take it off by tomorrow," Ling's Octarian parent told Markus as they clasped shut the medical supply case.

"Thank you very much," Markus said with a slight bow.

"It's very late. You should get going," The Octarian faced Markus, then Ling. "Go get ready for bed, Ling."

"Oh, no, can't Markus stay for the night?" Ling, holding onto Markus again, put on a pleading tone. "He doesn't know how to get to the surface. You'll just kick him out? When he's all alone? You're not gonna be so mean to him, are you? You were never mean like that to me." Ling jutted her lip in a frown.

The Octarian squinted at her with its bulbous yellow eyes. Then they shook their head while mumbling something indiscernibly. It seemed Ling knew how to pander to her adoptive parents.  
"Fine. But Markus stays downstairs. I don't want him near you if I'm not present. Is that clear?" The Octarian motioned with its single tentacle.

"I understand!" Ling said with cheer as she began to hop excitedly.


	3. Chapter 3 - Plans, Promises, and Puns

**Chapter 3 - Plans, Promises, and Puns**

After changing into her long-sleeved pajamas, Ling zoomed up and down the stairs as she set up a bed for Markus in the spacious living room. She fetched colorful pillows and patchy blankets from somewhere upstairs, and bundled them all up snugly along one of the walls to create a makeshift bed. Ling sat down on the arrangement and beckoned for Markus to join.  
"Is this okay? I'd lend you my bed but my parents won't let me," She spoke in a hushed tone. Markus settled beside her.

"No problem. Thank you for all your help, Ling. I don't know where I'd be right now if it weren't for you."

Ling giggled a little at his words. She suddenly paused as if remembering something.  
"Wait here." The phrase had hardly left her mouth before she went running up the stairs again.

In an impossibly short amount of time, Ling had returned with an armful of leaflets, magazines, and other assorted papers. The loose leafs slid out from her hold and glided to the floor. She quickly set down the stack to pick up what she'd dropped. Markus leaned forward to see what she had brought. The magazine sitting on the top of the stack was a popular fashion magazine Markus recognized.  
"I want to show you my collection. I found this all myself," Ling announced as she plopped herself down next to Markus and crossed her legs.

She peeled out a small poster from the middle of the stack. It was a glossy advertisement for the Firefin brand of clothing. The showcased item was the green hoodie Markus owned. Ling gave the poster a shake.  
"This is just like yours, isn't it?"

"Yep! That's my hoodie. You have a good eye, Ling." Markus smiled at her, and she returned the favor.

Ling turned her eyes back down to the poster. Markus watched her in the silence. The wind outside caused the walls of the home to groan quietly.  
"Tell me about yourself, Markus," Ling spoke but went on without giving him a chance to answer just yet. "Do you have a family? Any brothers or sisters?"

Markus waited to see if she would add another question, but she didn't.  
"It's just me and my parents, pretty much," He thought about his mom and who she would ask if Markus went missing. A second ticked by where he wondered if she was worrying about him by now. "But my best friend Milton has always been like a brother to me. So I'm fine with having no siblings."

"Your best friend?" She echoed, setting down the poster. "I want a best friend, too. I don't have any siblings, either, Markus," Ling shifted through her stash of magazines. "I saw something about a friendship bracelet. I don't really have anyone to do that with, but it looks like fun." When she found what she was looking for, she held it out to Markus. She had turned to a page of a teen monthly which had an article with instructions for making friendship bracelets. A photo pasted beside the text showed two Inkling girls with their wrists outstretched, matching colorful bands around each of theirs.  
Markus was stabbed with hollow sadness. It broke his heart to hear that Ling struggled with making friends. Considering the bad blood between Inklings and Octarians, he could understand why. Ling didn't seem upset about it, however. But that only concerned Markus further.

"We should make one tomorrow." Markus told her, and her eyes went wide.

"For us? You mean you're my friend? Really, really? I just said that to my parents earlier so they'd let you in. But really?"

"Yeah. Let's be friends."

Ling's hands went to her face, then to her lap, and back to her cheeks once more.  
"Wow! I'm… That's awesome!" Her voice squeaked higher, prompting her to check over her shoulder for her parents. "Oh, and be quiet. My parents probably don't want us to be friends."

Markus laughed to himself, and nodded.  
"Now," Ling stretched her arms up and let herself fall back into the cushions. "Tell me all about the surface."

Between chatting and pouring over the fascinating magazines Ling had come across over the years, the pair hardly saw the hour pass. Ling had since rolled herself up warmly in one of the blankets and was lazily lying with an arm on Markus.

"This might be a weird question…" Markus trailed off.

"What is it? I like weird the best. Say it." Ling urged.

"How did you get your name?"

Ling took in a breath to answer, then faltered.  
"Oh. Huh. I _think_ my parents named me. Not my Inkling parents. My Octarian parents."

* * *

 _The Inkling infant wailed in the hold of the Octarian. After some gentle rocking, the baby's cries were hushed.  
"If it doesn't have parents," The second Octarian spoke while staring at the tiny Inkling. "Are we its parents now?"_

 _"I don't know," The other remarked blankly. "Are we?"_

 _"I don't know." The first repeated._

 _They both watched each other dumbly._

 _"What do we call it?" Asked the one holding the baby._

 _"Ink. Let's call it Ink. It's a good name."_

 _"That is not a name." The second countered. The Inkling cooed and waved its bright yellow little tentacle limbs._

 _"Ling. Let's call it Ling."_

 _"Okay."_

* * *

The city of Inkopolis was peppered with neon lights and illuminated billboards. Night had fallen, but the streets remained bright with the glowing of the numerous streetlights. The breeze that rushed between the towering buildings was crisp and pleasantly cool. An Inkling was pushing through the thinning crowds populating the sidewalks with a backpack grasped tightly in one hand. She sprinted up through an apartment complex.  
Upon arriving before the correct door, she hammered it with knocks. Milton pulled open his apartment door.  
"Look! Look!" She held up the backpack, her face one of horror. "I found it in the basketball court on the way to the arena! Oh my cod! It's Markus's backpack, Milton!"

Milton took hold of the backpack and yanked the zipper open. He recognized Markus's favorite weapons laying inside the main compartment.  
"Marinka… Are you sure this belongs to Markus?" Milton's heart had already dropped with a sickly feeling, but he felt compelled to ask.

Marinka produced Markus's cell phone from her cute pink purse. The display complained of missed calls and unread received text messages.  
"This was in there. Even his keys are there!" She hardly managed to say. Milton met her eyes and realized she was on the verge of tears. Milton stepped aside, granting her access to his apartment.  
"You should come in."

Marinka accepted the invitation and shuffled in. He shut the door behind her, and they reconvened on the couch. Her fingers followed the smooth edges of Markus's phone in her hand.  
"We've got to call someone. T-the police or something!" Marinka pulled the phone to her chest.

"Marinka, don't worry so much," Milton reached out to put his hand on her shoulder in comfort. "He could have forgotten the backpack there-"

"No!" Marinka interrupted with a shout. "…Sorry," She tucked a purple tentacle behind an ear, and drew a sigh. "I think something terrible happened to him."

"It's only been a few hours," Milton tried to reason, but she turned away. "He can take care of himself. I'm sure tomorrow morning Markus is going to turn up with some crazy story. He's done it before."

Marinka stood up, taking the backpack from Milton.  
"I'm going to ask around if anyone's seen him."

"Don't be foolish. It's getting quite late," Milton got to his feet as well. "Listen. If he's not back by the morning, I'll help you ask around about him."

Marinka's shoulders fell tiredly, and she slowly gave a nod.  
"I'll hold you to that, you know." She stepped toward the door, and Milton joined her as she walked on.

"Hopefully you won't have to. Ah, and did you happen to ask his mom about him?"

"Yeah. His parents haven't heard from him, but it's not like they had plans or anything. I just don't like how he missed hanging out with us. He never does that."

"Inkopolis is a safe place. Wherever he is, I'm sure he's fine." Milton revealed one of his rare smiles, and finally Marinka felt the first break in her fretting.

* * *

Ling held the newspaper article above her and Markus's heads as they lied beside one another.  
"A year ago, an Inkling broke into the underground and attacked. Ever since, they patched up all the entrances to the underground. Except for a few," She pressed a finger to a line of print emphatically, but Markus couldn't decipher any of the Octarian text. "I'm taking you here. This is one they never closed off. It's hard to get to, though. It will take us at least a day to travel, because it's at the farthest dome from here, and nobody ever goes there anyway."

Ling turned against the pillow her head was propped against. Markus looked over to her. She watched back with her vivid magenta eyes glazed over, apparently contemplating.  
"Yeah. We're gonna need to bring some supplies. I've went that far only two times by myself, but I know what we'll need." Her eyes refocused on Markus.

"Alright," Markus shifted in his spot. "Hey, I'm getting pretty tired. You should go to your bed before your parents see you here."

"I will!" She sang, tossing the newsprint aside to roll into the sheets.

Markus let his eyes fall shut. The grueling day had taken its toll on his weary muscles. He melted into the comfort of the cozy blankets and pillows surrounding him and was asleep before he knew it.

The next thing he did know, however, was someone yelling. Yelling very close by. And whoever it was sounded enraged.  
"You can't trust these Inklings! You two! Get up right now! _Ling!_ "

Markus yawned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His hand bumped Ling's arm on the bed. Glancing at her sleeping form, he instantly put two and two together. One of her parents stomped around the living room, still shouting raucously.  
"Get out! Get out! Away from my daughter, you!"

The Octarian yanked Markus up by the arm. Markus stumbled with sleep for a moment.  
"You had better not have touched her, you-you filthy Inkling! Or I'll-! Or I'll-!" Ling's angry parent continued raving into Markus's ear.

Finally, Ling stirred in her spot in the sheets. Her arms unfurled to stretch as she inhaled, blissfully yet unaware of the situation.  
"Ling!"

Suddenly she straightened rigidly to attention. She scrambled out of the blankets toward Markus, who'd called her name in distraught.  
"No, no, no," Ling hurriedly took to her parent's side. "Um! I accidentally fell asleep here. I snuck down last night even though you told me not to. Sorry, sorry…"

"My dear Ling," Her parent's tone had softened incredibly. "Did he do anything to you?"

"No way! Let him go already," Ling insisted, and the Octarian released its vice grip on Markus. "Remember, I'm leaving today to take him to the surface. Right?" She spun around to face Markus for affirmation.

"The sooner the better." Markus agreed.

"Great! I'll start packing!" Ling was a gust of wind up the stairs in an instant.

"Hey! You're not going anywhere without breakfast!" Her parent called out with a meaningful shake of its single orange tentacle. Their eyes then returned to Markus. Their bulging eyes squinted at him with distaste. "Eh. You can eat, too." And with that, the Octarian hobbled off towards the kitchen.

Deciding to check out what exactly Ling was doing, Markus made up the creaky staircase. A door wide-open revealed Ling's messy room as she leapt to and fro inside.  
"Ropes?" Markus heard Ling ask aloud. "Ropes!" He peered in to see her raise up a bundle of wiry cable triumphantly. Ling stuffed it into a shoulder bag that was riddled with patches of differently patterned fabric sown into it. The rope pushed against the bag in attempt to unravel, and the patches threatened to burst. Yet Ling hadn't stopped moving for a moment.  
"Radio?" Her listing continued audibly. Ling dug around a messy closet of stray papers and cloth scraps before successfully retrieving an antiquated portable radio. "Radio!" She confirmed again as she placed the device into the shoulder bag.  
When she turned on her heel this time, she noticed Markus standing in the doorway.  
"Markus! I'm packing our stuff for our trip. Like I told you last night, we have to travel a long way out," Her index finger rested on her bottom lip. "Long way out."

Ling then stared down at the overstuffed bag sitting on her cot.  
"Hmm. What else do we need?" She asked Markus with her eyebrows turned in deep thought.

"Well… What does-"

"Oh! Food!" She remembered, exclaiming it while Markus answered. "Duh! Thanks, Markus!" Ling snagged the bag and raced back out into the hall with it. She headed back down the stairs in a blur of movement.  
Markus surveyed the small room and its walls completely plastered by posters of all themes and sizes. He shut off the light switch with a click and retreated downstairs after Ling.

The open living room was cast with artificial sunlight from the wide windows. Colorful curtains lined the windows, and their patterns somehow reminded him of the bag he had just seen Ling holding. Markus's pace slowed to a pause to take in the homely surroundings again. To think the nicest house on the street was a fearsomely flimsy shack – Markus questioned if it wasn't just Ling and her small neighborhood who lived like this.

"Ling made those curtains," The Octarian voice nearby caught Markus off-guard. "She sewed them herself."

Markus nodded in acknowledgement to Ling's Octarian parent. He watched as they carefully stepped closer to him. Markus wasn't sure which parent this one was.  
"I didn't know that. She has talent." Markus offered a polite smile as they stood together in the ray of light.

Turning to watch out the window again, Markus was surprised with how different the street outside looked in the broad daylight. He squinted up at the dazzling orb in the sky. It gave a slight flicker but quickly eased back into its full brightness. Markus wondered if all the underground domes were equipped with its own emulated sun.  
Ling burst out from the kitchen and scampered up the stairs yet again.  
"I forgot something!" She cried on her way up, dragging the heavy shoulder bag with her.

Markus couldn't believe she'd left the kitchen with everything she needed so soon. Her Octarian parent still in his company nodded with amusement.

"Our little Ling doesn't let anything stop her. She's a stubborn one," The Octarian faced the stairs, but cast their gaze towards Markus. "Markus, there's something you should know."

With the drop in tone, Markus straightened and listened expectantly. The Octarian's single tentacle fidgeted.

"Even if the Octarian forces haven't found out that another Inkling has entered the underground, they will be on the lookout for you. There's only so much Ling can do to help you on your journey to the surface," They drew a long breath. "If ever danger comes your way, please… Give up the journey if it means keeping Ling safe. You're welcome to return for another night if things don't go according to plan. There's always another chance."

Markus wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't the caring words he heard. The Octarian's thick purple lips were pursed in a worried frown.

"I'll do my best." Markus replied earnestly with bob of his head.

"You seem like a good person, Markus. Don't let me down," The Octarian began towards the kitchen. "Come. Let's get the table set by the time Ling is ready to eat."

* * *

"I don't see it anywhere!" One complained.

"He's gotta be around here somewhere," Another commented.

Nathan was crouched in the soggy earth near the river. He drove sticks into the mud of the riverbank and raked them across the water's surface. His brown eyes flashed about the clear water. The river streamed along quietly today, unlike the day prior.

"Hey, Nathan. You shouldn't get too close to the water." His teammate warned from a distance away.

He didn't respond. His eyebrows were twisted in irritation. This was clearly Markus's fault; being so difficult to find and all. No sign of the jar he'd last seen Markus in, and he'd been searching with his two teammates long enough to thin his patience. Even the gentle morning sun was starting to make him warmer than he liked. Nathan angrily tossed the muddy stick into the river with a splash as he stood back up. The muck below him gave way, and he fell backwards into the mud. With tight fists he crawled up to his feet again. His teammates snickered as Nathan tried in vain to wipe off the sticky dirt from his elbows.

"Where is he?!" Nathan demanded as he stomped in the direction of his hapless teammates. "He should've washed up by now!"

"Maybe he kept going. Like, all the way to the ocean or something." The female teammate pointed off downstream, and Nathan turned pale.

"Impossible!" Nathan refused bluntly. "No. I bet… I bet he got out on his own and is playing us for idiots!"

The two teammates exchanged suspecting glances, but said nothing more.

"Forget about that doofus!" Nathan fanned his arms out. "Let's get outta here. We've got Turf Wars to do today. Just watch Markus turn up at the arena!" The three then hiked back up the slope to reach the concrete.

* * *

"C'mon, Mil! This is not a drill!" She hammered the door with rapid knocks.

The apartment door gave a click and swung open before her. Milton stepped into the hall as he pulled the door back shut behind himself. The lock gave a finalizing clack, and he looked up at Marinka.  
"Don't call me Mil," He ordered sternly. "You're not warming up with your puns again, are you?"

"Why not? Don't get your tentacles in knot. Just let me give this a shot. It might help your mood quite a lot."

"Ah. Rhymes. Stop it, Marinka," Milton adjusted his glasses with authority. "Today we're trying to find out what's happened to Markus, and I don't want to start it off with jokes."

"I didn't think it could hurt," Marinka began in an apologetic manner as she hurried after Milton. "Thought that we could use some cheering up, ya know?"

She reached his side again once he had halted before the elevator. Milton pushed the down arrow on the wall panel. It lit up, indicating the elevator was on its way.  
"I appreciate your effort." He mumbled just when Marinka had decided he wasn't going to respond.

Marinka fidgeted with her hands impatiently. She wished they had taken the stairs so there wouldn't be any waiting. She eyed Milton while he remained facing the wall. With nothing interesting to note about whatever he was staring at, Marinka put on a new smile.  
"How about that time Markus locked himself out of his own apartment late at night and had to sleepover at your place?"

"Your point?" Milton had crossed his arms tightly and every few seconds drummed his fingers against the faux leather of his elbow.

"Maybe something like that happened," Marinka said. "He might've lost his backpack somehow."

"Then why didn't he come to one of us?" Milton sighed through his teeth. "Look, Marinka, I know you just want to raise my spirits but Markus should have come around by now."

"We'll find him, we'll find him." She rubbed her hands together with a nod.

Milton glanced over to her in the moment.  
"Last night you looked ready to cry because you thought something had happened to him. What's changed?"

"My attitude!" She cried proudly. "Milton, just look at it this way; we're gonna do some real detective work! It's our mission to find Markus!" She pounded a fist into her palm. "I should have brought some detective stuff. Like a magnifying glass! What _do_ they use that for, anyway? Finding fingerprints? No wait, that's the dusty stuff, I think."

"Don't do anything to embarrass me in public." Was all Milton had a chance to add before the elevator announced its arrival with a melodic dinging.

Their first task was checking in at Markus's apartment to be sure he had not been simply sleeping the entire time. Nothing was found there aside from his messy bed, of which Milton assured Marinka was always unmade no matter when Markus had last awoken. Milton suggested retracing Markus's path home from the Turf Wars arena where they had last heard from him.

The midmorning sun was heating up the streets, but the calm wind kept the air pleasant. Numbers of other Inklings bustled along the sidewalks as cars hummed by.

"Is your sister still out of town?" Milton asked out of nowhere.

"Yep. Off to a tournament in another town. My parents took her since they didn't want her going alone," Marinka stated as she studied the passing cafés and shops.

"Why didn't you accompany her instead? You love those tournaments." Milton pushed up his glasses again.

"I had obligations. Like, tonight, Markus and I-" Marinka's sentence fell apart for a breath. "Well, Markus and I have a big babysitting job tonight," She completed her thought with a flip of her drooping purple tentacle hair over a shoulder. "Five kids, if I remember right. Markus said he'd help me with the job. The pay is awesome."

"I would hate to be in your position," Milton made a face. "If we don't find Markus, don't even think about asking me to help babysit. I'm terrible with small children."

"We'd better start asking around about Markus," She jut her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun's glare. "Hey, that's the basketball court I found Markus's backpack in," She pointed out the spot with her free hand. "Let's ask some of those guys that're playing."

Inklings were dodging each other and jumping about the court, one of them dribbling a basketball. The tallest of them, and the one currently with the ball, apparently took notice of Milton and Marinka. He weaved out of the group to run up to the pair before they realized it.  
"Yo! Milton, right?" The Inkling, sporting a casual orange sweatshirt greeted Milton with a laidback smile and the basketball in his hold. His calm orange eyes matched his bright shirt.

"Yes," Milton uttered with slight confusion. He didn't think he knew this person.

"Markus's friend, ain't you?" He asked, widening his grin. "Yeah, have you seen 'im? Markus? We're havin' a game today," He thumbed in the direction of the court. "He hasn't shown yet."

"We were about to ask you about that," Milton tried not to sigh. "I have no idea where he is. We're looking for him."

"You haven't seen him lately, have you?" Marinka then spoke.

He replied "Not since a couple days ago." And Marinka deflated. The Inkling tucked the ball under his arm as he turned his attention to her. "How do you know Markus? You his girlfriend?"

"Oh, my. No, we're just friends," Marinka answered graciously.

"I see," He nodded with a look that Milton didn't approve of. "Wanna get lunch sometime?"

"Let me stop you right there, what's-your-face," Milton stepped closer to Marinka and turned his nose up at the older Inkling. "The nerve to try and make a move before you even introduce yourself." Asserting command over the situation despite how the stranger towered over him, Milton matched gazes with the older Inkling.

"Sorry man. Name's Danny," He let the basketball fall to bounce it on the concrete a couple of times. It resounded each beat with a rubbery echo. "Friends of Markus are friends of mine, yo. Just tryna be friendly," Danny claimed innocently.

"Sure. Just let us know if you happen to see Markus." Milton backed down to pull Marinka away, but she objected.

"Hold on! How's he supposed to do that if we can't get in contact?" Marinka escaped Milton's grip and approached Danny. "Do you have a splatter account?"

"Totally," Danny's face crinkled in small laughter while he dug into his pocket for his phone. He turned the screen to her after activating the app. "Here's my username. And you're okay with me messaging you?"

"No problem! Don't worry, small fry over there's just having a bad day. See you!" Marinka gave a happy nod after they had swapped contact details. Milton had retaken her arm again to lead her back down the sidewalk.

"Why would you ever want to acquaint yourself with that guy? He seems… unscrupulous, if you know what I mean," He told her in an irritated whisper.

"What? _Orange_ you glad you got to meet him?" Marinka giggled to herself at her joke.

"A flashy eyesore." Milton rebutted, but Marinka went on.

"His ink color was nice. If he plays in Turf Wars, I bet he's high in the ranks. He's definitely top- _teal_."

"Now you're trying too hard," Milton said dismissively. "Let's ask someone else about Markus."

Marinka watched the court from over her shoulder as it distanced from the two. Four other Inklings were strolling the sidewalk in the opposite direction, engaged in conversation. Once the pair neared them, Milton questioned the four about whether they had seen Markus recently. At Milton's suggestion, Marinka pulled up a photo of their friend on her phone.  
The four suddenly brightened and nodded with agreement at the image.  
"We saw him yesterday at the Turf Wars arena," One of them stated in a friendly tone. "He was an expert with the Octobrush."

Milton passed a word of thanks and both groups resumed their courses, breaking up the temporary Inkling cluster. This practice turned into a routine with each person Milton and Marinka encountered. However, their endeavor resulted in only the ever-troubling fact that Markus was last seen shortly before Marinka's phone call with him the day prior, and nothing more.

"I didn't think Markus knew so many people," Marinka crunched a pebble with her sneaker. "A lot of the people we met, like, knew him personally. I feel kind of lucky to have him as such a good friend."

Milton, leaned against a smooth tiled wall, was unsmiling.  
"I don't feel so lucky." He spat, pushing the frames of his glasses harder into his face.

Clouds had swept into the sky and blocked some of the sun now. The cooling grass of the nearby field caught its scent on the breeze. Marinka looked up and down the largely empty sidewalks. They had wandered close to the edge of downtown. A loud trio of Inklings were chasing each other down their side of the street. Two of them sped past Milton and Marinka, while the third trailed behind slowly. Marinka straightened to catch the attention of the last Inkling.

"What are you doing?" Milton was suddenly alert again. "Wait, Marinka, I don't think-" Marinka had hurried towards the boy without hearing Milton's warning.

"Hi! I don't want to bother you, but could I ask you if you've seen my friend?" She started to retrieve her phone from her bag before waiting for an answer.

"And who are you?" The boy asked with a frown. He reeled his muddy hands out of his pockets. When he saw Milton approaching, he made a sound of disgust in his throat. "Oh, it's _you_. You're Markus's friends, aren't you?"

"Marinka…" Milton put his hand on her wrist while she looked on quizzically. "That's Nathan. He… doesn't like Markus." He phrased it gently in the presence of the boy.

"What do you guys want?" Nathan maintained his angry scowl while speaking.

"Nothing. Let's not bug him, Marinka," Milton hushed into her ear.

"Have you seen Markus? No one's heard from him since yesterday." Marinka continued persistently.

Nathan cast his brown eyes down at his hands as he picked the dried dirt off of them.  
"Um…" He huffed, let his hands fall to his sides, and searched for his teammates between the barricade that was Marinka and Milton. "You sure he's not just… at the arena or something? Never mind, okay? I don't care. Leave me alone."

Nathan pushed past to rejoin his comrades farther down the path. Marinka shifted the phone in her hands anxiously.  
"I guess he doesn't want to talk."

"Of course he doesn't. He hates Markus and he hates us in association. Let's go before he decides to start throwing rocks at us or something," Milton told her with urgency.

But Marinka remained standing in the center of the sidewalk, eyes on Nathan. He slowed again to look back at Marinka, reinforced his frown, and continued on his way.

"Why is he all muddy?" Marinka asked Milton when she finally turned to him.

"What does it matter?"


End file.
